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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25629922">Torino</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope'>IncandescentAntelope</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Olympics, Pre-Canon, young Viktor, young Yuuri</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:09:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>729</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25629922</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Olympics in Torino were Viktor's first.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Torino</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi friends! This little ficlet was written after I saw Bunny's beautiful art of Viktor, I'll never recover. Please go give Bunny love on <a href="https://twitter.com/Bibimbunnyy">twitter</a>!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
Viktor stepped off the ice, swallowing the urge to pant for breath. His pulse was thundering louder than anything Yakov was saying, thudding in his throat and under his feet. Was that applause? He couldn’t quite tell. There was a particular twinge of pain in his right knee that he wasn’t a fan of, but there were more important matters to attend to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He zipped into his jacket, covering up the lace and frill of his costume and sat beside Yakov on that bench, acutely aware of the cameras pointed directly at him, at the bead of sweat rolling down his temple, the stray strands of hair that had fallen loose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... axel was sloppy. Nearly over rotated.” Yakov’s voice faded back into audible range, but Viktor could still barely hear him. The shuffle of the judge’s papers were louder, the tap of someone’s pen against the desk. “Vitya. Listen to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hoped the cameras couldn’t pick up how tightly he was gripping the stuffed poodle in his lap, or hear the crinkling plastic wrap around the blue roses he didn’t remember picking up. How could less than a minute feel like half a lifetime? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stadium rippled with anticipation, red, white and blue flags held aloft as deliberation continued. Viktor fought to keep his leg from bouncing. His lips twitched downward as he waited. Had they seen his misstep in the step sequence? He felt his hands beginning to shake, his brow bunching up in that unattractive way, creasing in the space between his brows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The weight of it was suffocating. Stéphane had been stunning, both his Free and his Short were flawless. Buttle too. Viktor felt so small in a land of giants, a toddler in comparison, striving for the same podium, the same reward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gold.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Announcing the Free Skate scores for Viktor Nikiforov.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor’s body wound tight as a spring, every muscle protesting his desperation. He was so close. There was a chance. Just a fraction of a point would see him at the top of the podium, gold around his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled in a quick, shaky breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>One hundred sixty-seven point sixty-seven.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest was a dull drone in Viktor’s ears. He’d done it. He was fifteen points ahead, and it hit him in waves. He had won. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my personal best,” Viktor heard himself whispering, “That’s-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A new world record.” Yakov finished, clapping him on the back and nearly sending him out of his seat. “Congratulations, Vitya.” His stern, somber expression melted as the tears began to fall, sliding down his cheeks messily. He waved at the cameras, blowing a kiss through the lens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now beat it.” Yakov beamed, sparking something warm, something eager in Viktor’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, coach.” He replied, and much to Yakov’s dismay, threw his arms around his shoulders. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yuuri! Yuuko!” Hiroko’s voice called from the kitchen, but Yuuri couldn’t stop staring at him, couldn’t tear his eyes away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re announcing his scores!” Yuuko replied with bubbly excitement that Yuuri couldn’t muster. He was rooted in place, watching Viktor. There was something so different about his face now, something so… sharp. Yuuri’s heart flipped in an unfamiliar way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?” Hiroko said with a smile, setting a bowl of popcorn in front of the two. “He looks so serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s nervous.” Yuuri whispered, his gaze still locked on Viktor’s pretty blue eyes. The numbers appeared on screen, and Yuuko cheered loudly. Viktor had won, broken a record. A wide smile broke across Yuuri’s face as Viktor smiled too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s late, you two.” Hiroko said, but Yuuri didn’t hear her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to skate with Viktor.” Yuuri murmured, mostly to himself. “When I’m sixteen, I want to skate in the Olympics too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hiroko smiled to herself and nodded. “Then you’d better get some sleep, Yuuri. Olympic figure skaters get eight hours of sleep every night. I’m sure Viktor does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri pouted, his eyes flicking between the TV, where the ice was being prepared for the medal ceremony, and his mother. “After the medals? Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After the medals. But you two are going to bed right after.” The two huddled even closer to the TV, watching subtitles scroll by as Viktor gave an interview, smiling in the prettiest way Yuuri had ever seen someone smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Viktor, what are your plans for next season?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“To set another record.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! </p><p>love you all, stay safe and healthy.<br/>&lt;3 ia<br/><a href="https://twitter.com/ia_theauthor"> Twitter</a> | <a href="https://incandescentantelope.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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